Hermione the Ravenclaw
by Megark
Summary: Book 2 in the Harry the Hufflepuff series. A new side of Ravenclaw surfaces as a new student joins their ranks. Will Hermione be drawn for her ivory, book-filled tower? Will she be content to simply study? And what's all this about petrification? "I'm speechless." -my Beta
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Here we go! Hermione the Ravenclaw is a go! Can't promise a solid release schedule (we all know how well that worked last time) but I can promise that I'm not stopping. Even if I go on another 3 month hiatus, I will eventually come back. That is my promise. I know it's not much, but there it is. Thanks so much for trekking this journey with me. You, dear reader, are the reason I do this. Enjoy!**

* * *

"So then Harry walked through the magic black fire, quite unaffected, and I went back to make sure Ron was all right. He came to soon after I got there, and maybe fifteen or twenty minutes after _that_ , Professor Dumbledore came bursting through, asked me 'Where is he?', I pointed into the next room, and he tore off." Hermione shifted in her seat and arranged herself more comfortably. "Maybe five minutes after that, he came back with Harry in tow and we all went back up, into the school proper." She looked up, trying to remember if anything else had happened. "Oh, and we won the House Cup. Dumbledore gave Ron, Harry, me, and Neville points after the fact, and my fifty were enough to take the Cup." Hermione smiled at the memory. "So, then I came home and here we are."

Hermione had never before witnessed a facial expression that she felt comfortable labeling "flabbergasted," but now she had two. Both of her parents were looking at her, shocked utterly at the adventures their little bookworm had been party to. Mr Granger's brown eyes were wide, his brown brows low over them, and his mouth tightly clenched. Mrs Granger's eyes were as wide, her head slightly tilted, and her mouth open in a little "o." Neither blinked for a full minute. Hermione was glad that she was used to silence, otherwise this moment might be a little awkward.

The summer had been quiet enough, the only moment of excitement coming when Hermione's new book-list had come via owl post. She had, of course, finished her summer work on the train, much to Harry and Ron's bewilderment, and was looking forward to sinking her eyes into new academic territory. Most of the texts seemed mere continuations of the previous year, relatively mundane, but a large section of list had been devoted to the entire published works of one Gilderoy Lockhart. If a single professor merited his entire set of published works as required reading, Hermione was _more than willing_ to buy them all.

Her father was the first to recover. He blinked twice rapidly and visibly shook himself. "Well, sweetie, that's, er, well..." He wouldn't have believed the story but for his daughter's straight face and matter of fact tone. Hell, she talked about it as dryly as she did when mentioning her favorite novels.

"Right, so I'm going back to Diagon Alley to buy the books I need this Saturday, so I'll need some money." Hermione looked back and forth between her parents, looking for who would give her the money.

Her father looked quickly at her mother, concern in his eyes and mirrored in hers. "I believe we'll be escorting you there, dear."

* * *

The Grangers arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron round about mid-morning, and were understandably baffled by the lack of a seedy tavern. Despite their daughter's no-doubt exceptionally well detailed account of the magics involved, there simply _was no Leaky Cauldron._ And yet, amazingly, Hermione simply reached forward and grabbed _solid wall_ , turned it, and strode forward into _yet more solid wall_. Her mother and father hesitantly followed her, experienced the utterly _weird_ sensation of walking through a Muggle-Repelling Charm, and were standing in a tavern so seedy, it was a miracle there wasn't a garden on the floor.

Hermione was walking quickly towards the back door of the establishment, and her parents hurried to follow her, wary of being left alone in this strange place. The various patrons of the bar watched them walk through, and despite Mr Granger's attempts at nonchalance, it was painfully clear that he and his wife were out of their depth. The man behind the bar smiled a toothless smile at Hermione, and just had time to change his look to one of confusion before the Grangers were stepping out back, into a small alley. A dead end.

Hermione strode purposefully up to the end of the alley and pulled her wand out of her pocket and began tapping bricks, muttering under her breath. Mr Granger heard that she was counting when he approached. She soon snapped her fingers in excitement and placed the tip of her wand on a specific brick. A soft tap later, the wall began to fold in on itself and soon, the Grangers were looking in on a magical wonderland of a street.

Mr and Mrs Granger were hard pressed to keep up with their daughter, and still see the fantastical sights that surrounded them. By the time Hermione finally stopped in front of, what else, the bookstore, Mr Granger had questioned his eyes countless times, his view of physics eight, and his sanity five more. Nothing seemed consistent down this alley. Selwin's Self-Transfiguring Songbirds, for instance. Once Hermione explained what transfiguration was, Mr Granger was fully behind the idea of owning things that did it themselves. That was fine! What wasn't fine was the _utter_ randomness which the things turned into. Purple rhinoceroses weren't even aesthetically pleasing! What was the _point_?!

Things were calmer in the bookstore.

At worst, the pictures on the covers would move: child's play. Hermione quickly and efficiently grabbed all of the books she would need, a few she wanted, and one or two that could theoretically become useful at some point in the future, who knew? Mr and Mrs Granger walked up to the sales counter, carrying the large stack between them, when they heard a soft gasp from behind them. They laid the books on the counter with twin soft sighs, and turned to see what had captivated their daughter.

Immediately, Mrs Granger also gave a soft gasp and clutched her husband's shoulder for strength.

A man was standing a short ways away on a small, raised dais, surrounded by _piles_ of books, all bearing his smiling, handsome face. The man was tall, broad-chested, attractively slim at the waist, and had the most _dazzling_ smile Mr Granger had ever seen. His well-tailored white shirt was tucked into blue-black tight pants, and over his shoulder hung a rose-gold cape. His shoes were a strange, shimmering black, and he was undoubtedly the most well-dressed wizard Mr Granger had ever seen. Mr Granger had to quickly stifle a soft gasp of his own.

"That's Gilderoy Lockhart!" buzzed Hermione, "He's the one that wrote _all of these_." She pointed to a large section of the books on the counter. "He's _obviously_ an _amazing_ wizard."

Mr Granger had an ever so quick moment of being annoyed with the man on display, but if he was really as amazing as his daughter believed, and why shouldn't he be, then this would be money well-spent.

"Is that...?" Lockhart moved to edge of the dais, squinting into the crowd. "It is! Harry Potter!" He immediately leapt off the dais with all the grace of a gazelle and the thickening crowd parted, revealing a relatively short, moderately skinny, youth with messy black hair and shockingly green eyes.

Mr Granger leaned to his wife. "We know that child, don't we?"

"He's the son of the family we had over for our third Christmas Dinner," his wife whispered back, her perfect memory for faces and names never failing to cause awe in her husband.

"Ah yes, Vernon's son, right?" he asked, proud that he knew at least _someone_ in the family.

"His nephew, actually. His parents died to that, oh," she thought for a second, "That evil wizard Hermione was telling us about. Volde-something."

"You dare speak the Dark Lord's name?!" hissed a rather aristocratic blond man standing a bit behind Mrs Granger.

"Oh, sorry," Mr Granger said nonchalantly, "Is that not proper?"

"Harry Potter," Lockhart said loudly, commanding the attention of the bookstore, "Wandered in here, of course, to simply buy his books and leave."

Mr Granger saw now that the boy was standing on the dais with Lockhart, looking rather shell-shocked.

"Little did he know!" Lockhart said loudly, "That he would be getting my whole collection for free!"

The crowd gasped appreciatively.

"Oh, in that case," Harry said, "Do you mind my friends getting copies too?" He leaned up and whispered into Lockhart's ear.

Lockhart faltered but a moment, then brightened and said, "Of course, Harry m'boy!" His eyes gained a look that Mr Granger would almost call predatory. "We'll hand them out right after the photo-shoot."

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Mr Granger was shaking hands with the patriarch of a brood of redheaded children, a Mr Weasely, while Hermione was getting her stack of free books from a rather defeated looking Lockhart.

"Absolutely an _honor_ to meet you, Mr Granger," Mr Weasely said, shaking his hand vigorously, "That another Muggle would take enough interest in our world to actually come here, to Diagon Alley, is just marvelous!"

"Er, don't parents usually come with their children?" asked Mr Granger, a bit taken aback.

"Not into the Alley itself," reassured Mr Weasely, "You see, as an employee of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department at the Ministry, it's immensely interesting to me how Muggles would integrate into our society. In fact-"

"Still blubbering on and on about Muggles, are you Weasely?" sneered the same aristocratic man, walking up to them, "One might question the quality of such a wizard, don't you think?"

Vernon blustered and Mr Weasely went red in the face, but it was Mr Granger who smoothly replied, "And what would you say about the quality wizards who interrupt conversations that don't concern them?" In the shocked silence that followed, he continued, "Seems rather boorish; quite plebeian, wouldn't you say, Mr Weasely?"

The aristocratic man, pale already, went translucent. "I de _mand_ satisfaction, sir."

Ignoring Mr Weasely's warning, Mr Granger turned to face the man. One look at his slim, almost frail, figure had Mr Granger blessing the fact that he had kept up the fencing he had started in his youth. "Quite brave of you, sir." He raised a perfectly trained eyebrow. "Quite brave indeed."

"What weapons, _sir_?" hissed the man.

"The rapier." Mr Granger lifted a calling card out of his pocket. "Here. I'll expect your seconds tomorrow."

The man hesitated a second in taking the card, and a barrage of emotion clouded his face before he did. "Granger?" His eyes lifted. "Tell me, are you related to the Dagworth-Grangers, over in Devonshire?"

"No," said Mr Granger, crisply. "Until tomorrow, then." He turned unceremoniously back to his companions.

Mr Granger heard the man walking away, heard him stop and say something to Mrs Weasely and the daughter, then continue and leave the store. Only then did his shoulders relax.

* * *

Mr Granger waited to tell his wife what had happened until they were home and Hermione was in bed.

"You did _what_?!" Mrs Granger asked, venom dripping off of the last word.

"Don't worry, dear," said Mr Granger, leaning back in his chair, and placing his glass of port on a small table. "I got the measure of him. It'll be easy."

"He's a _wizard_. He can use _magic_." His wife's look was incredulous.

"He'll honor the terms. I know his type." He took a sip of the rather excellent port. "I've as good as won."

"You better have." His wife resumed her needlepoint. "So, what shall we serve the McWersters this Friday?"

* * *

Hermione was vibrating with excitement as she finished up packing. Her mother would be taking her to the station, her father had some sort of business meeting or something, and Hermione had to be ready by 8:30, to get to the station on time. There was a dread problem, however.

Hermione had too many books.

Her school books were in the bottom of the trunk, the highest priority of course. Next were her light reading books, approximately fifteen thousand pages of text, and she figured that would last her for about the first week. Then she could borrow from the library, after all of her class material was sorted. She had come to her issue with her reference books and her extra-curricular studies books. She _needed_ both, utterly and completely, but her mother had said that she could only bring as many books as she could carry. Hermione understood that logic, barely, but she simply _couldn't_ be without either stack, as both were necessary for her schooling.

So it was that, at 7 am, Hermione had woken early and begun the arduous task of separating her books into "Need," "Really Need," and "Desperately Need" piles to pack into her trunk. And so it was that at 8:45, she had finally got a list that she was all right with. And so it was that at 9:30, she and her mother finally left the house.

Hermione arrived at King's Cross at 10:45, giving her a scant fifteen minutes to get onto the train, and by the time she pushed through the barrier, she was absolutely sure that she would need some sort of pick-me-up on the train itself. As she crossed the barrier, she heard a small _pop_ , but when she turned around to look, she couldn't see anything. Just as she turned to head towards the train, however, she heard a tiny, little voice say, "Harry Potter can't go back to Hogwarts. Dobby is doing this for his own good."

Hermione turned to question the invisible voice, but just then she heard a loud and startling _crash_ on the other side of the barrier. Dozens of wizards turned to look, curious about the commotion, and when all of those eyes happened upon Hermione, she froze. In the still silence, Hermione heard a second crash, then another tiny _pop_. After a few moments of no other sound, everyone on the platform went back to saying their goodbyes and whatnot, and Hermione made her way onto the train.

The ride itself was uneventful; Hermione found herself sitting near to some Griffindor girls who were gossiping about some, no doubt, inanity about dueling or something. She ignored them and started on her woefully lacking book collection. Once or twice someone made some noise about seeing a flying car outside the window, but Hermione ignored it just like the rest of what they said. Flying cars. The very thought.

* * *

 **AN: Bam, Chapter 1. Let the review flow through you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Welcome to Chapter 2, please to find the below chapter adequate and enjoyable. Please to alert author if it is neither, or either, of these. Thanks to you, reader, please to proceed now.**

* * *

Hermione looked up from her book once the Sorting was about to start. Loathe though she was to put down _Jabbering with Jabberwocks_ , Hermione knew that school traditions had their merit, and that she should welcome her new Housemates. The Sorting Hat began singing a very similar song to last year, going on about the Houses and whatnot, and Hermione found herself tapping her foot along with the song. There was the standard applause after the song was finished, and Hermione clapped right along with everyone. That Hat was quite a wonderful piece of magic, after all.

"Abbey, Michael!" called out McGonagall, and a small, brunette child came running out of the room adjacent, his new school robes dragging a bit on the floor.

The Hat fell completely over his eyes and stayed there for a few moments before yelling out, "Hufflepuff!" followed by cheers and yells from one of the middle tables.

Thus went the Sorting for a while, various children getting placed in various Houses, to loud and varied cheering. Hermione did her part in all of that, and soon began to feel a genuine excitement in the ritual. She began imagining the potential of each one as they walked up, then allowing their House to slightly color and influence that potential. Several potential Ministers for Magic, enlightened scholars, and brave warriors later, a slight, blonde girl with rather large eyes began blithely walking out of the room.

"Lovegood, Luna?" asked McGonagall a few seconds after the girl walked out.

"That's right," the girl replied with a soft smile, "Nice to meet you." She looked out across the Great Hall, her placid smile benevolently placed on everyone. She sat on the stool and the Hat was placed on her head.

After a full five minutes, the Hat shouted out, "Ravenclaw!" though Hermione thought it didn't sound quite convinced of its choice.

Her table exploded in cheers and yells, and she participated gladly. Of all the students she had seen today, Hermione hadn't been able to see Miss Lovegood's potential at all. The small girl made her way over and, amid the cheers, walked over to where Hermione was sitting.

"Is anyone sitting here?" she asked, her voice oddly ethereal, as though she was lost in thought.

Hermione shook her head and gestured to the variety of empty seats that, as usual, surrounded her. "No, please."

The girl walked around and sat across from Hermione. "What are you reading?"

Hermione held up her book. "I've been obsessed with him for _days_ now."

Luna nodded. "That's my favorite one of Lockhart's. The others seem a bit far-fetched to me." She gave Hermione a smile. "I'm Luna Lovegood. Nice to meet you."

Hermione smiled back, the girl's quiet manner pleasing, "Hermione Granger. A pleasure."

Harry and Ron stumbled in to the Great Hall just after the last student was Sorted to Slytherin. A brief cheer sounded around the Hall before everyone saw the various cuts, bruises, and smeared blood on both boys. Harry had a large cut across one of his cheeks, the blood had since dried on his cheek. He had another one on his head, under his hair, which caused the back half of his hair to be matted and sticky. His glasses were smashed and he had the beginnings of a solid black eye.

Ron looked rather worse off. His arm was bound in a sort of makeshift sling and, while he had less obvious damage, it was clear his arm was broken. His face was white, utterly drained of color, which made the blotchy bruise on his cheek, and the dried blood under his nose, that much more noticeable. Walking pained him rather badly.

Needless to say, the cheer at seeing Harry died rather quickly. There was a moment or two of general confusion before Professors Snape, Dumbledore, Sprout, and McGonagall were all up and dashing towards the two injured young men. They were snatched up by the matronly witch, and dragged bodily out of the Great Hall. The others followed her, and the large wooden doors slammed shut with an ominous _boom_ , leaving silence reigning over all the tables.

The silence lasted approximately thirty seconds before volume erupted: students loudly discussing what happened, largely unheeded by the rest of the faculty, who were talking about much the same things themselves. The food went largely unnoticed as various theories were circulated about why Potter and Weasley were as _damaged_ as they were.

Hermione, meanwhile, sedately picked up her book and began reading again, eager to continue Lockhart's _fascinating_ foray into the dreaded Jabberwock Jungle. Just as she found her place, however, she heard Luna's soft voice from across the table.

"Do you know those boys?" she asked.

Hermione set the book down again, careful to keep a finger in it this time, "A bit, I suppose. We spoke a reasonable amount of times last year."

"Would you say that you're friends with them?" asked Luna, an odd light entering her eyes.

Hermione considered the question. Ron _had_ said that nice thing before Sorting and Harry _had_ visited her during the Hols. Perhaps they didn't talk to her _all_ the time, but she supposed that was normal between friends in other Houses. Huh. She guessed she did have friends. "I suppose."

"Good. We'll visit them after dinner," Luna said with an air of finality. She began demurely eating her food.

"You have to be shown where the dorm is," said Hermione, a little deflated.

"Friends are more important. Besides," Luna glanced up, "Surely you can show me where it is."

Ever more deflated, stymied even, Hermione picked her book up again.

So. This is what having friends is like.

* * *

"Anyway, Luna decided that we would come visit you two here," Hermione was saying, "You missed a really great speech from Dumbledore."

Luna tilted her head. "I thought he was rather incoherent and vague."

Hermione nodded. "That's par for the course, but at least he wasn't downright ominous, like last year."

Harry nodded. "To be fair, though, Fluffykins _was_ capable of," he adopted a passable impression of Dumbledore's voice, "A very painful death."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, that's for sure." His face dropped. "Shame that thing had to die, though."

"You mean the Cerberus?" asked Hermione, her voice clipped with irritation, "The dog rumored guard the gates of _Hell_?"

Ron scrunched his mouth. "It _was_ kind of cute, though."

Harry nodded in agreement, a wistful look on his face.

Hermione glanced between the two with indignation.

After a moment, Luna broke in, "You three have pretty interesting adventures."

Ron and Harry laughed, and Hermione's frown became a bemused grin.

"You have no idea," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Can I be a part of them this year?" asked Luna brightly.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, then glanced at Hermione. "Er," Ron began, "We don't plan them, exactly."

Harry nodded. "We just sort of stumbled on that last one."

Luna beamed. "Even better! I do _so_ love surprises!" She clapped her hands.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and shooed Hermione and Luna out of the Hospital Wing, claiming that her patients needed rest, not "raucous whooping" and "deafening cheers."

Hermione was a little put out at the hyperbole, but acquiesced without comment. Luna, meanwhile, blithely commented on the matron's "well-blooming squirbles" and walked out after Hermione.

"What, exactly, are squirbles?" asked Hermione, as they left.

"A small, furry animal that mostly lives in the forests of North Eastern America," Luna explained, "My daddy wants to go on an expedition to see them next summer."

"Oh, what does your father do?" asked Hermione, as the two made their way towards the Great Hall again.

"He publishes a magazine about all of the things that the Daily Prophet is too scared to write," Luna explained with obvious pride, "It's all about the evil things the ministry does, secret magical artifacts, and, my favorite things, magical animals that no one else has ever even seen!"

"How does he, er," Hermione paused awkwardly, "Stay in business?" At Luna's confused look, she continued, "If he's spilling all these secrets, why does the Ministry let him keep writing?"

Luna frowned for a second, then leaned in and whispered, "If they stop him, everyone will know they're true."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but balked at Luna's exaggerated _shhhhhh_ , and left the conversation at that.

Some things were not worth arguing, after all.

* * *

After a tiring trek up to the Ravenclaw Tower, Hermione and Luna were standing in front of a rather gregarious bronze and wooden door with a conspicuous eagle's head door knocker. Hermione had loved the thing from the first time she'd seen it. Eagles had always been her favorite bird, and she had been pleased that there was one on her new home.

"What happens now?" asked Luna.

"You'd know if you'd have gone with the rest of the first years," reminded Hermione not unkindly.

"Oh hush," Luna batted Hermione's shoulder, "Friends are more important than rules."

Hermione was about to retort, but Luna stepped forward and grasped the knocker. Before Hermione could warn her, Luna sharply rapped the knocker three times against the door.

"What do a hippogriff and a writing desk have in common?" asked the eagle, eliciting a surprised cry from Luna.

Luna jerked back from the door. "What does it want?"

Hermione smirked at the younger girl. "Answer the question."

Luna frowned and, after a moment, sighed. "I don't know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll have to do better than _that_ in Ravenclaw. Think about it."

Luna pursed her lips. "They both have quills?"

Hermione nodded. "What else?"

"You don't have to bow to a writing desk," muttered Luna, obviously thinking, "And you can't write while riding a hippogriff." She trailed off.

Hermione stepped forward. "Quills, the seated position, and, most importantly, the potential to radically change your perspective."

The eagle nodded, looking almost proud, and the door swung open.

Luna stared up at Hermione, awe etched into her face. "That was amazing!"

Hermione shrugged. "You'll get better at it." She smirked. "You'll have to, unless you plan to sleep on the floor."

Luna's face went from shocked to resigned. "I'll just owl Daddy for a tent."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, you'll get it."

The two walked into the Common Room, filled to almost capacity, with students. Unlimited Expansion Charms had been placed on all of the Common Rooms, however, so they were never filled _to_ capacity. Just right before capacity. _Hogwarts, A History_ was quite a read.

Luna had much the same reaction as Hermione to all of the books and couches. With a cry of joy, she bounded off to pull a tome off of a nearby shelf, with the unfortunate consequence of bumping into an older Chinese girl. Luna was heedless in her excitement to get her book, and completely missed the disgusted condescension on the older girl's face.

"Ex _cuse_ me?" the girl said, pulling Luna around. " _Don't_ you have anything to say to me?"

Luna frowned. "What?"

"You _bumped_ into me," the girl said, "Shouldn't you _apolo_ gize?"

"Oh. Sorry!" said Luna, pushing past the girl to get to a couch.

"Hold on there, firstie," the girl said, squeezing into Luna's shoulder. "What's your name?"

Luna grinned and stuck out her hand. "I'm Luna Lovegood! And, may I say, the Shin-Tao in your hair is exfoliating the perfect amount of fecal matter!"

The girl's face went blank. "Wait, what?" Then her eyes took on a different tone, something Hermione could only read as cruelty. "Lune Lovegood? Doesn't your father write that rag, The Quibbler?"

Luna nodded brightly, apparently unable to read faces at all. "Yeah! Though, I'm not sure why you're calling it a 'rag.' It's a magazine!"

The girl sneered and pushed Luna back, against the bookshelf, "A rag is what we call a bloody awful magazine. So, yeah, I think it describes your father's quite well."

There were a few titters from the onlookers.

Hermione frowned. She'd read about this. Bullying was common amongst almost all human communities, and was both quite toxic and quite hard to get rid of.

"Hey, let Luna go." Hermione stepped forward, a bit confused by her own actions.

The Chinese girl looked over at Hermione venomously. "Step off."

Hermione felt her face flush. "I will not! Bullying is an unacceptable, toxic aspect of society, and I will not stand by and watch you practice it!"

"This isn't bullying," sneered the girl, "Bullying requires the perpetrator to gain some sort of benefit from the action."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That distinction is vague enough to be meaningless."

There was collective "ooooh" from the onlookers.

The Chinese girl roughly shoved Luna into a bookshelf. "Listen, Granger, you may be the best in your year, but I'm older, stronger, and smarter than you'll ever be." She leaned in. "I've mastered spells you haven't even dreamed of yet."

"Doubtful," said Hermione, "I've read up till the end of fourth year."

Another "oooooh" sounded from the onlookers. Luna seemed torn between worriedly looking at Hermione and wanting to read her book.

The Chinese girl sneered at her. "You watch your back, Granger." She glanced back at Luna, who jumped. "And hers too." She glanced back. "I'll be coming for the both of you."

Hermione blinked. This was a new situation for her. She was unprepared. "Very well. If you persist in practicing bullying, I must endeavor to either ignore you, or stop you, as appropriate."

The Chinese girl walked off, to a group of maybe five girls, across the room. "It won't matter what's appropriate, Granger," she called over her shoulder, "You'll be lost either way."

The final "oooooh"s from the onlooking crowd sending her off, the Chinese girl walked out of the Common Room, and up the stairs to her dormitory.

Hermione huffed.

* * *

An hour or so later, Hermione was engrossed in _Jabbering with Jabberwocks_ , when Luna plopped down on the opposite end of her couch. Luna sat there for about a minute before talking.

"Hey, why was that girl mean to me?"

Hermione, careful to leave a finger in her book, sat up. "Some people don't like themselves and so feel the need to belittle others, and take pleasure in doing so." One look at the expression on Luna's face, however, reminded Hermione of Harry's distraction the previous year, and she softened her explanation. "It's nothing you did, Luna. That girl was going to find _some_ one to pick on."

Luna scooted a little closer to Hermione. "She picked me, though. She said my daddy was a bad writer."

Hermione shrugged. "Bullying relies very little on the truth. Bullying relies heavily on hurt."

Luna hardly seemed relieved.

Hermione thought back to her interactions with Harry the previous year, and moved a bit closer to Luna. "I think your father is great." She put an arm around Luna's shoulders.

Luna looked at the carpet. "You don't even know him."

"He raised _you,_ " Hermione said. "Isn't that enough?"

Luna looked over at Hermione and, after a moment, squeezed her ribs hard enough that Hermione gasped a little.

Perhaps Hermione didn't know Luna well enough to make that statement, but she theorized that if bullying was based on hurt, rather than truth, then perhaps comfort was based on love, rather than truth.

* * *

 **AN: Ravenclaw bullying is weird.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey all, welcome to Chapter 3! I'm getting better at getting into Hermione's head/mindset so the chapters are coming faster once they're started. I'm considering posting my original works on a site, maybe try and get a following going at some point in the future, so if you're interested in that, please let me know with a message or review! Enjoy!**

* * *

As classes started and Hermione began to get back in the swing of things, she became increasingly cognizant of the bubbly, blonde shadow she had acquired. Luna quickly made it very clear that she and Hermione were _friends_ and that _friends stuck together_ , something that Hermione had not expected at all of the younger Ravenclaw. Hermione's general experience of the House of Wit Beyond Measure was that people generally left you alone, and only bothered each other for research advice or perhaps help with phrasing a particular idea. And while Hermione knew, academically, that outliers inevitably surfaced, she was not necessarily pleased that _this_ outlier had attached itself to her with all the tenacity of a _Semibalanus balanoides._

"Really? An acorn barnacle?" Luna pouted. "They're the most common type."

Hermione blinked. "I was thinking of the tenacity of the creature, rather than what sort of barnacle you most resembled." She paused for a second. "How did you know what I was thinking about?"

"It was all over your face," Luna chuckled, shaking her head slowly.

"That was...impressively specific," Hermione said slowly, her mind still trying vainly to wrap itself around this new occurrence.

"I wouldn't worry about it!" Luna beamed. "Daddy just ignores it when I say things that aren't possible."

Hermione nodded, outwardly agreeable, but inwardly resolving to figure Luna out, in her entirety.

"Good luck with that!" Luna said.

* * *

It was a bleak Monday morning when Harry made his first visit, of many no doubt, to Hermione at the Ravenclaw table. She understood, from comments the previous year, that him doing so was unusual, but the taboo did not deter Harry in the slightest. In fact, making friends seemed so important to Harry that Hermione was surprised he even listened in class.

"Hello!" Harry said, sitting down across from Luna, next to Hermione, "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Hermione shook her head and put down her book. "Please." She smirked. "I was wondering how long it would take you to sit with me this year."

Harry blinked. "Was that a joke?"

Luna nodded happily. "I've been teaching her!"

Harry glanced across the table. "Good on you, then!" He reached for some breakfast. "What's on the docket for you two today?"

"Charms, Herbology, Potions," Hermione took a breath, "And Defense."

Harry stage-whispered to Luna, "Did she sigh that last one?"

Luna nodded and whispered back, "I think she's in love with Gilderoy Lockhart."

Hermione harrumphed. "That's not it! He's an accomplished writer and adventurer, not to mention the impressive amount of knowledge he's acquired in his travels! He's so, so..."

"Handsome?" supplied Harry.

"Dreamy?" suggested Luna.

"Well-qualified." Hermione said icily, glaring daggers at the two of them.

"Sure," said Harry, sharing a smirk with Luna, "Anyway, what are you two doing this evening?" He leaned forward and started eating his breakfast.

Hermione shrugged. "Homework, mostly."

Luna nodded excitedly. "Hermione's showing me how to work ahead of my class!"

Harry grinned. "Brilliant!" He took a drink of coffee and grimaced. "Want to come see my Quidditch practice tonight?"

Hermione thought about it, but before she could say anything, Luna jumped in, "Sure! What time?"

"Round about seven?" Harry shrugged. "Something like that."

Hermione nodded, a bit relieved. "We'll still have some time before that to study."

Harry grinned. "God forbid I should interrupt your study time."

Hermione and Luna both looked at Harry, stone faced.

"You don't joke about study time." Luna's voice was icy.

After a moment of blistery silence, Harry piped up again, "Anyway, Ron will be there too."

The two girls' cold looks did not thaw.

"Right." Harry got up. "See you later then! Cheers!"

When he was far enough away, Luna said, "I can't believe Harry joked about study time."

Hermione nodded stoically. "I'm sorry you had to see that, he's not usually like that."

Luna shuddered. "I hope so."

* * *

Hermione slid into Defense, tired from a long day of interacting with both fellow classmates and Luna, and sat in her normal seat at the front of the class. She took out a parchment and quill, wrote the date and DADA at the top, then sat back in her seat and waited for Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. She had, unfortunately, finished _Jabbering with Jabberwocks_ long before their first Defense class, so Professor Gilderoy Lockhart had not seen her reading it in class, and she had read all of his other books during the summer. Hermione had heavily considered re-reading a book of his to signal her interest to Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, but such a waste of both her time, and space in her dangerously full bag, were unconscionable, and so Hermione had to content herself with answering all of his questions.

The first class had largely been Professor Gilderoy Lockhart asking the class questions about his books, and his life. Despite overall outrage over the lack of material, Hermione knew that Professor Gilderoy Lockhart had, in fact, been subtly explaining that if the students wished to succeed, they would need to know where their professor had come from and who he was. In fact, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's teaching style was quite ingenious.

Just as she was thinking this, the esteemed Professor Gilderoy Lockhart himself strolled into the classroom. He casually tossed his overcoat so that it landed just so on the back of his chair. It didn't matter that having an overcoat while living inside a castle made no sense, Hermione reminded herself, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart had to have his reasons.

A quick wand movement aimed at the chalkboard had the effect of making the whole class look up from whatever they were doing. It didn't matter that the movement didn't produce any results.

"Welcome, second years, welcome!" Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's voice sounded sweeter than any sugar-free candy Hermione had ever eaten. "Thank you for attending my class!"

Hermione swore to herself that she'd attend _every single_ Defense class.

"I hope you've brought your A-game today, my students," Professor Gilderoy Lockhart continued, "Because we'll be working with some live creatures today!"

There was some murmuring around the class, most of it concerned. Hermione was not concerned, however. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart would protect them.

"We'll be working with..." Professor Gilderoy Lockhart flourished his wand, "Cornish Pixies!"

A small curtain flew off of an even smaller cage sitting demurely on Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's desk. Inside were miniscule creatures, about the size of Hermione's fingers, fluttering about wildly. The reveal drew a few gasps from the students.

"I hear they steal your teeth!" called one student.

"They'll break your fingernails as soon as look at you!" called another.

"They'll muss up your hair!" screeched a girl.

"They'll do no such thing," reassured Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, as he strode over to the cage, "I'm here."

Hermione let out breath. It was definitely _not_ a sigh.

"Now, the spell to capture them is 'Peskipiksi Pesternomi'!" said Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. It didn't matter that Hermione had never heard of that spell, or that _Immobulus_ , the Freezing Charm, should work adequately. Surely Professor Gilderoy Lockhart knew what he was doing.

"Now..." Professor Gilderoy Lockhart paused for effect and, once he had everyone's attention, placed a hand on the cage's latch. "Here. We."

It didn't matter that Professor Gilderoy Lockhart had not asked the students to practice the spell to ensure they had it right. It didn't matter that he was about to release unknown beings into the room without clarifying what they would do. It didn't matter that the entire class, pretty much, was looking decidedly nervous about the whole thing.

A small voice in Hermione's mind told her that, pretty soon, it would have to start mattering.

"Go!" exclaimed Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

With a clattering, followed by the sound of hundreds of wings buzzing, the pixies were off. They seemed to move everywhere at once, far faster than the second years could track them, much less cast at them. Some of the students, Hermione included, were yelling "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" and randomly waving their wands, hoping to serendipitously find the right spell form. Interestingly, incantations and spell forms were surprisingly flexible, Hermione had learned, and new uses were still being discovered. Hermione couldn't wait for Arithmancy.

After a few more moments of chaos, Hermione decided that, actually, it _did_ matter that the spell Professor Gilderoy Lockhart had given them to use did not work.

" _Immobulus!_ " Hermione called out, swishing and cutting the mountain-like spell form of the Freezing Charm. Hermione didn't particularly _like_ the spell form for _Immobulus_ ; she felt that a mountain should signify growth, rather than stopping, but what could a witch do? Spell forms were spell forms, and for the moment, they were unchangeable. Ah well, to business.

Hermione's spell had slowed a swathe of pixies, but had done little to diminish the horde's destructive power. She needed more help. It didn't matter that Professor Gilderoy Lockhart was cowering in a corner of the room.

"Everyone!" Hermione called, "Use the Freezing Charm!"

"You're the only one who knows it!" called back an Indian girl.

Hermione huffed in frustration. "It's _Immobulus_ , followed by a sort of wonky mountain spell form. Like this." She took a breath and called out, " _Immobulus!_ " Seriously, that spell form did _not_ make sense.

Another chunk of pixies found themselves unable to fly as before.

"Like this?" the Indian girl shouted, " _Immobulus_!" Hermione didn't have time to glance at her spell form.

A few pixies slowed for a second or two, but then resumed their previous frantic buzzing.

"It's ' _IMMObulus,_ '" Hermione replied, "Not ' _ImmoBUlus_ '!" She took aim. " _Immobulus!_ "

Another batch of pixies fell.

"How's this?" a Welsh boy yelled, " _Immobulus!_ " Hermione _did_ get a look at his spell form, and it wasn't quite right.

The pixies the boy was aiming at stilled, but for only just a moment.

"More of a _swish-dip-swish-_ then a sort of _down-cut_ thing." Hermione demonstrated again.

As the Welsh boy and the Indian girl began to take on the pixies more confidently, Hermione glanced around at the rest of the class. They were following Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's lead and cowering.

"Well come on then," Hermione said brusquely, "Pick up the frozen ones and put them back in their cage."

A few students jumped up and began following Hermione's directions. The Welsh boy and Indian girl, Hermione decided she should probably learn their names, were just cleaning up the rest of the pixies.

After the beasts had been put back into the cage, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart strode up to the front of the classroom. It didn't matter that he was acting as confidently as he had been at the beginning of class, despite cowering from pixies for most of the class. Well, at least, Hermione didn't _think_ that it mattered.

"Well done, class!" congratulated Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. He clapped a few times. "You totally succeeded in what this class was supposed to be."

"What _is_ this class supposed to be?" asked the Welsh boy with a suspicious look on his face.

"Er, well," Professor Gilderoy Lockhart stuttered, "It was, um, an exercise to, well," he snapped his fingers, "For me to ferret out the natural leaders of this class. And _you_ , my dear," Professor Gilderoy Lockhart looked admiringly at Hermione, "Did a fan _tas_ tic job!"

Hermione felt a warmth rush to her cheeks. It was _not_ a blush.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione and Luna were studying.

At one point, Luna turned to Hermione and said, "It's almost seven."

"What?" Hermione asked, "Oh right, Harry."

Luna nodded, looking slightly wistful. "We should probably go if we want to get there on time."

Hermione stretched. "Probably."

It was another ten or fifteen minutes before the two girls, loathe to leave, finally got up and returned their books to their respective rooms. It took them another fifteen to twenty minutes to get all the way down to the Quidditch pitch, and by the time they got there, Hermione was starting to wonder if it was all worthwhile. The closer they got, however, the more excited Luna got.

"My daddy used to take me to matches!" Luna explained, almost vibrating with excitement, "You'll love it, Hermione!"

"I'll admit that it's an interesting discipline," Hermione allowed. "I _do_ think that people spend a little too much time on it, though."

Luna shrugged. "Not everyone's a Ravenclaw."

Hermione nodded slowly. "More's the pity."

It didn't take Hermione, and Luna by extension, much time to see where Harry was. He was hovering in front of the three hoops, strenuously stopping the bizarrely-shaped red ball from going through the hoops.

"I didn't know he was a Keeper!" Luna exclaimed as they walked up the bleacher stairs. "For some reason, I was thinking he was a Seeker."

Hermione shrugged.

The practice was surprisingly interesting to Hermione. She made a point to try and figure out the teachable moment of each exercise, and was moderately pleased with her success. Harry seemed to do well, though she saw him get frustrated a few times. Hermione nodded pleasantly whenever Luna explained a point about what the other players were doing, but Hermione was focusing on what Harry was doing. After all, he was her friend and she was watching the practice for him.

Towards the end of the practice, Hermione began to feel a begrudging respect for the rigorous physical activity. Really, the practice and the training were just like studying for a very specific test. You could work the same problems over and over again because physical execution was the goal, not mental acuity. It was actually quite fascinating. Instead of learning different extrapolations of data, Harry was ingraining the same moves, the same thought processes, the same reactions into his mind and body. Hermione decided that she was _not_ sorry she had come.

At the end of the practice, Harry slowly circled down to the ground, as Luna and Hermione descended the bleachers. From across the pitch, Hermione could see Ron also running towards Harry, a bright grin on his face.

"That was brilliant, mate!" Ron called out, waving a bit.

Harry laughed. "It was all right, I guess."

"Harry!" Luna called out, making the boy turn around, "Why aren't you a Seeker?"

Harry blinked at the confusing question. "Er, I don't know." He turned to an older boy who was heading towards the changing rooms. "Oi, Captain! Why aren't I a Seeker?"

Captain turned back towards Harry. "Cuz Diggory's better than you! Also, don't forget to do your weight exercises before you shower!"

Harry waved in affirmation just as his friends got to where he was standing. He beamed at Hermione and Luna. "Thanks so much for missing study time just to see me practice."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You being serious, mate?"

"Of course, mate!" Harry shot a significant look at Hermione and Luna. "I'd _never_ disrespect study time."

Ron blinked, then snapped his fingers. "Of course! Study time is _the_ most important."

Hermione nodded sanctimoniously. Of course her friends would understand.

"Anyway," Harry said, "I have to get to the weight training regimen. I'll meet you at the Great Hall?"

Just as Hermione was about to nod, a singularly unwelcome voice sounded.

"You _would_ need strength training, Potter," sneered Draco Malfoy, "Being as _puny_ and _weak_ as you are."

Harry glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder at the approaching Slytherin. "Yeah, Placo, being the youngest Keeper in a century or two tends to leave me a bit smaller than the others."

Draco sputtered a bit at the name, but recovered. "You won't stand a _chance_ against Slytherin in the first match, Potter." He glanced at Ron. "And if you have _any_ House loyalty, Weasel, you'll agree with me."

"I'm not loyal to people who dishonor themselves," Ron shot back, "How's Daddy dearest, Draco? I hear he's still-"

"You shut _UP_ about my father!" Draco shouted, his face going pale.

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, innocently.

"Don't you DARE play the innocent card with me," Draco snarled, "You filthy, stinking, Mudblood!"

There was a palpable silence around the group. Even Harry, who had been walking back to the changing room, stopped in his tracks.

Hermione had the singularly awful sensation of knowing she'd been insulted, but being in too much shock to parse what the insult meant.

After a good ten seconds of pregnant silence, Ron uttered a single, terrifying syllable. All the more terrifying because of how quiet his voice was. "Lurtz?"

An impressively short time later, the large boy was replying, "Yessir?"

"Tell me, Lurtz," Ron began, "What's the worst insult a Malfoy can bestow?"

"Given their history of Purism," Lurtz answered, "Probably that M-word we're not s'posed to say."

"And what, exactly, would you do," Ron continued, the venom mounting in his voice, "If _some_ one called my good friend that word?"

Lurtz looked uncomfortably at Luna and Hermione. "S'not polite to say with ladies present, sir."

Ron nodded slowly. "Last question, Lurtz." He stared daggers at Malfoy. "What advice would you give to someone on the receiving end of that impolite action?"

Realization dawned in Lurtz's eyes. "I'd say that...cretin...should probably start running," he growled, also glaring at Malfoy.

"Er, well," Malfoy stammered, "What I meant to say was-"

"Taco, I think you meant to say exactly what you said," Harry interrupted, moving menacingly towards the frightened boy, "And that's not. All. Right."

Hermione was starting to get over her shock, and was a bit surprised to see her friends obviously promising terrible things to Draco Malfoy.

"Er, sorry," Hermione said, "What does that, er, word mean?"

"I'll explain in a minute, Hermione," Ron said, not taking his eyes off of Malfoy. "First things first."

Draco didn't wait to hear what that "first thing" was. He probably made record time dashing back to the castle.

When he was gone, Hermione was faced with three concerned-looking boys.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, that was totally out of line," agreed Ron.

"Worry not, m'lady," assured Lurtz, "I'll make 'im pay for that."

"What, exactly, did he call me?" asked Hermione. After a second, she added, "Also, why?"

"Basically, he called you a _really_ rude term for Muggleborn," Ron explained. "Are there any equivalents in the Muggle world, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I don't want to say them, though."

Hermione put a hand up. "I understand. Why did he call me that, though?"

Lurtz piped up. "Well, y'see ma'am, the Malfoys are what we call Purists. They believe that the purity of your blood is what makes a good witch or wizard."

Hermione frowned. "Are they right?"

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "Of course they're not, Hermione! Look at you, you're much better than Draco could ever dream of being!"

Hermione shook her head. "Outliers always exist. Are they right, consistently?"

"No one has studied it, if that's what you mean," piped up Luna.

Hermione nodded to herself.

"Don't worry about what he says," Harry said, his hand still on her arm, "You're wonderful, and will always be, no matter what Draco Bloody Malfoy says."

Hermione shrugged. "I understand that what he said was rude." She smiled at Harry, and the other two. "And I appreciate the comfort." She frowned. "But I have to know if what they believe is true." She grinned at Luna. "Time for a research project!"

Luna's eyes widened in excitement, and she grabbed Hermione's hands. "Really?!"

Hermione beamed back. "Absolutely!"

Ron tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Are all girls this weird?"

Harry shrugged. "I hope not."

* * *

 **AN: Hey all, hope you enjoyed Chapter 3! As always, please comment any questions/concerns/praise/whatever and I'll probably answer it or something. Thanks for sticking with me despite the large gaps between uploads. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing more and more, so hopefully more updates! I'm also *sort of* interested in writing interesting one-shots so message me if you have a really cool idea, and I'll get back to you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you all for your words of encouragement! It really helps me want to keep writing when I see people appreciating my story. So please continue to give feedback of whatever nature you feel is appropriate. Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 4.**

* * *

Hermione walked out of Transfiguration one blustery October day exhilarated and fiery. They had been practicing turning teapots to tortoises, something Professor McGonagall had told them was extremely difficult, and Hermione had been the only one to successfully complete the task. Granted, her tortoise was still floral and pink, but she was the only one completely exempted from classwork until this current project was over. Of course, she would still practice her spellwork, and try to get the tortoise to be the right colours, but she didn't _have_ to, and that made all the difference.

It was with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips that led Hermione to the Great Hall for lunch. Ron and Harry joined her today, resulting in her inability to politely read at the table, but Luna was nowhere to be seen. This was not altogether uncommon, Luna often wandered after her "creatures" and would disappear for short stretches of time, so Hermione put it from her mind and let herself enjoy listening to her friends talking about their days.

"Seriously, mate, I can't believe how Snape treats us now," Ron was saying, with a sarcastic groan, "He barely favors us Snakes at all now. _Thanks_."

Harry chuckled. "I hear he still treats the Gryffindors rather horridly."

Ron rolled his eyes. "The Lions need to be brought down a few pegs." He leaned in close. "Plus, most of them couldn't potion their way out of a paper bag."

Hermione frowned. "I know that you're using an idiom, but for the sake of argument, all you need to get out of a paper bag is a small amount of water and time. It's ludicrously easy."

Ron closed his eyes and nodded sagely. "Exactly. That's how dumb they are."

Harry and Hermione both laughed, and a genial silence fell between the three. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the doors of the Great Hall.

"What are you looking for?" asked Harry, following the trail of her eyes, "Expecting something in the post?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's Luna. I haven't seen her since breakfast."

Ron shrugged. "You don't have any classes with her, and lunch has only been on for a half hour." He took a big bite of dinner roll. "B'shidesh, she'sh prob'ly jush furder," he swallowed, "Down the table."

Hermione leveled a disgusted look at him. "Your deplorable table manners aside, Luna's never been this late." She glanced at the ceiling to determine the approximate time. "She's, on average, about 6-10 minutes late. When she sees one of her 'creatures,' she's about fifteen to twenty minutes late." She looked at her two friends. "She's far past due."

Harry shrugged and took a sip of pumpkin juice. "She'll be fine. We'll just find her wandering around somewhere, or a teacher will. It's not like anyone is out to get her or anything, right?"

Hermione quickly glanced up and down the table, looking for the Chinese girl. "She might, actually." When Hermione didn't see the older girl, she quickly told Harry and Ron about Luna's first night.

"Has she bothered Luna at all since?" asked Ron, all business.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. I haven't seen it, if she has."

Ron frowned. "It's not like a bully to let their victim go for a whole month."

Harry glanced at Ron. "What?"

Ron absently waved a hand. "You have to go at them hard and fast to instill as much fear as possible in as short a time as possible. Otherwise, they may not be willing to crumple to your will as easily."

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron with horrified shock on their faces.

Ron glanced up at them. "What?" He smirked. "Don't tell me your Houses don't have wisdom to pass down to the younger generations."

"Anyway," said Hermione, shaking her head a bit, "I have a really bad feeling about this. That older girl isn't at the table either."

Harry nodded, getting up from the bench. "Let's go look for her. I'll check the corridors and staircases."

"I'll head to the Common Room since you probably won't be able to get in," Hermione said, primly wiping her mouth with a napkin before standing up.

"And I'll check all the little nooks and crannies that you upstanding folks don't know about," smirked Ron, swinging his legs out from the table.

At concerned looks from Hermione and Harry, Ron shrugged. "Just be glad you have someone who _can_ search the nooks and crannies that you don't know about."

Harry looked around the cafeteria. "Hey, Friar!"

The portly ghost floated over from his conversation with Felicity Waters and Gabriel Truman. "Harry, m'boy! What can this old ghost do for you?"

Harry quickly explained the situation. "I need a way to communicate with these two over long distances."

The Fat Friar crinkled his well-endowed forehead in thought. "I'll ask the other ghosts to follow you. We can move through the castle better than you corporeal folks." He winked. "Besides, we can communicate with each other mentally. It's perfect!"

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Friar!"

The Friar waved a pudgy hand before vanishing before their eyes.

"Let's go!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the doors to the Great Hall.

* * *

It took Hermione a while to get back to the Ravenclaw Common Room. She couldn't think as well as she normally could for some reason, and she got lost once or twice. A panting and frustrated Hermione stood in front of the eagle door, clutching a stitch in her side. She grabbed the bronze knocker and rapped it against the door, a trifle harder than she might otherwise.

"How does one watch rocks grow?" asked the door, a superior gleam in the eagle's eye.

Hermione's mind went blank. "That's a patently ridiculous question."

"How does one watch rocks grow?" asked the door again, with no change in its speech.

"Rocks don't grow!" Hermione spat, glaring at the eagle.

"How does one watch rocks grow?" repeated the eagle patiently.

 _A raging mind does not easily think_.

Hermione blinked, fury forgotten for the moment. Who was that.

 _One who would help. Think, little one, quench the rage as one would a fire._

Hermione took a deep breath, ignoring the pain from her stitch, and imagined a bucket of water dumping onto her head. Slowly, the rage began to recede. Soon enough, she could think clearly.

 _Very good. Now, think on the puzzle._

"How does one watch rocks grow?" asked the eagle.

Hermione focused all of her considerable brainpower on the answer. Rocks cannot grow. Yet, there is an answer to the question. Therefore, the answer must be found without conventional logic. Ah, of course, it was an elegant solution.

" _Engorgio_ ," Hermione stated confidently.

"How does one _watch_ rocks grow?" the eagle repeated, not unkindly.

Hermione heard a tinkling laugh in her head. _Think more broadly. Open your mind to the absurd._

That couldn't be right. Ravenclaw was the House of wit and logic, not a House of guesswork.

 _Ravenclaw is a House of all types of wisdom, little one. What you see as absurd may be astute thinking to another._

Well that was patently ridiculous. Wisdom, intelligence, and logic were not relative concepts, Hermione was sure.

 _It may be patently ridiculous. But so was the riddle, by your own admission._

Hermione blinked.

 _What else is patently ridiculous in your life, little one?_

Luna's creatures. This situation. People who don't study.

 _Think of your friend. What fuels her creatures?_

Hermione snapped her fingers. "An overactive imagination!"

Almost begrudgingly, the eagle door slid open.

"The answer _should_ be worded 'The ability to accept new properties of accepted substances,'" grumbled the eagle as Hermione walked past.

 _Well done, little one._

* * *

Hermione dashed into the Common Room, her wand out and seventeen different spells on her lips. Her sense of dread had been mounting higher and higher as she'd run towards the Common Room. She'd been able to temporarily tune it out at the door's riddle, but she ran inside, it came back in full force.

The scene in front of her would have been comical but for the racking sobs coming from Luna. She was kneeling on the carpeted floor, tears pouring down her cheeks. The Chinese girl, and a few others, were lounging on the couches, various books open on their laps.

"Tell me, first year," snarled the Chinese girl, "What is the algorithm that properly allows for excess magical force to be appropriately released into the aether, specifically when crafting a Superior class fire spell?"

"I told you," bawled Luna, almost incoherent, "I never studied Arithmancy! I don't know!"

The Chinese girl clicked her tongue. "Tut tut, another failed question for you." She stared severely at Luna. "My, my. At this rate, you'll fail this quiz too."

Luna struggled to pull herself together enough to get words out. "P-please, no! Quiz-quiz me on s-s-something I kn-know!" She bowed her head to the floor. "I d-don't want to f-f-fail."

Hermione had seen enough. " _Flipendo Tria!_ " she called, slashing her wand downwards, equidistant between the older girl's three lackeys. The three girls, taken unawares, were unceremoniously flipped backwards, over the couches they were sitting on.

The Chinese girl quickly reached into her robes to fire back at Hermione, but Hermione had the drop on her. " _Expelliarmus!_ " she yelled, again swishing her wand, but adding the thrice-damned curlicue that always messed her up during her private practice.

The other girl's wand was snatched out of her hand, and flew perfectly into Hermione's outstretched grasp.

"Come here, Luna," Hermione said quietly. The sobbing girl got up quickly and ran over to Hermione's side. "I warned you, did I not?" Hermione asked the other girl.

The Chinese girl glared at Hermione. "You were too late, Granger. Your little friend won't be forgetting me for a _long_ time."

Hermione felt rage pulse with in her, but she was quick to drop water on it. "With appropriate therapy, and seeing you brought to justice, Luna will recover in an adequate fashion."

"Oh, I won't be punished," chuckled the Chinese girl. "You will."

Hermione frowned. "But you broke the rules. I prevented your further breaking of them. I am in the right."

The older girl laughed cruelly. "You should ask your Slytherin friend how things really work in this school." She adopted a hurt and scared tone. "Oh, please, help! Help! She's hurting us! Come quickly! Help!"

The three girls Hermione has tossed all popped up and joined in the wailing and pleading. Very quickly, a male Hermione recognized as a prefect ran into the Common Room.

"Cho!" he exclaimed, "Are you all right? What happened?"

The Chinese girl, apparently "Cho," struggled to stand, then sank back to the cushions. "Oh, Roger, it was terrible! Me and my friends were tutoring Luna, when all of a sudden, that bushy haired monster ran in and started shooting spells everywhere!"

The leftmost girl nodded and continued. "She knocked me out, sent me flying over the couch there! I've only just come to."

"Yeah!" exclaimed the rightmost girl, "See this?" She pointed to a bruise that was forming on her cheek. "She gave me this!"

The prefect, Roger, glared at Hermione. "I'll be talking to Flitwick. You won't get away with this sort of violent aggression any more."

"But," Hermione protested, "Won't you hear my side of the story?"

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, this will turn into a he-said, she-said sort of case. I trust Cho more than you, again obviously, so no. I won't hear your side."

"They were bullying Luna!" Hermione burst out, enraged, "I had to stop them!"

Roger frowned. "That's a very serious charge. What does Luna have to say?"

Luna sniffled, having calmed down since her ordeal. "Th-they, um."

Hermione saw Cho glare harshly at Luna.

"They were j-just tutoring m-me," whimpered Luna, "L-like they s-s-said."

"See?" asked Cho, finally "able" to stand up. "That girl is insane! In fact," she moved closer to Roger, "I'm not sure I feel safe with her here."

Roger frowned at Hermione and placed a hand on Cho's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll make sure she doesn't hurt you any more."

Cho sank onto Roger's shoulders. "Oh thank you, Roger! I knew I could count on you!"

Roger softly stroked Cho's black hair. "It's my job, Cho. You're safe now." He turned to Hermione angrily. "You, however, are not safe. I'm going to tell Flitwick right now." He tilted Cho's face to look at his. "Do you think you can come to Flitwick's office and tell him what happened?"

Cho fluttered her eyelashes. "I'll try. You'll be there, right?"

Roger smiled tenderly at her. "Of course I will be."

With one more venomous glare at Hermione, Roger walked Cho and her friends out of the room.

* * *

"I must say, Miss Granger," squeaked Professor Flitwick, "I'm _very_ disappointed in you." He paced around the corner of his desk. "I would never have thought that the best student of her year would turn her considerable talents into nothing more than a weapon against her fellow students!"

Hermione was staring at the ground, in abject misery. The righteous anger that had filled her in front of Roger was completely gone, having cooled into a stony, wretched feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"What _have_ you to say for yourself?" demanded Flitwick.

"I've told you all I can," said Hermione, miserably, "They were tormenting Luna, and I stopped them."

"I checked their wands," frowned Flitwick, "And there were no spells cast on Miss Lovegood at all. The last thing they cast was from their Charms class with me, earlier in the day." He approached Hermione, somehow extremely intimidating, despite his stature. "You had cast two offensive spells on those girls right before Roger stopped you from doing more."

Hermione's head sunk even lower. "Please, sir, you have to believe me."

Flitwick's face took on a softer tone. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. As long as Miss Lovegood's testimony remains unchanged, there is little I can do. You have precious little evidence in your corner."

Hermione, her despair swallowing her up, felt a tear snake its way out of her eye.

"In the face of what you did to those poor girls," Flitwick continued in a softer tone, "I sentence you to...detention."

Hermione curled up into a ball as best she could, while still on the chair, and began sobbing.

* * *

 **AN: Eesh, a bit of a downer. Didn't realize how painful that would be to write. But struggle leads to growth, or something. Review! Let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** **So saying "it's been a while" seems like a bit of an understatement, and giving the various reasons I haven't been writing feels too much like giving excuses. Suffice to say: Sorry for my extreme lack of chapters, hopefully that will change moving forward. Please enjoy the chapter below and review if there's something you want to say!**

* * *

Hermione didn't see much of Luna for the next week or so. At first, she was still too hurt from the younger girl's betrayal, and then she didn't have a reasonable way to initiate contact. Looking at Luna's almost constantly despondent face sent waves of pity coursing through Hermione's stomach, and she wasn't good enough with people to initiate the no-doubt difficult conversation. She wasn't Harry _bloody_ Potter. He'd have just talked to Luna and had done with all this ambiguity already. Ron would have _easily_ disabled the bullying at its source and probably dealt with all of the arms of the Great Cho Conspiracy. But Hermione was helpless. Books! Books and cleverness! Useless.

Cho became increasingly bold in her tormenting of Luna, even making the poor child walk around the castle with the large group of older Ravenclaws. Hermione couldn't even fathom what monstrosities Cho was visiting upon Luna, with total and complete impunity as long as no one else stepped forward. Of course, if someone _did_ step forward, Cho could still rely on Luna to deny any hint of wrongdoing. It seemed hopeless.

Hermione ground her teeth against each other, then immediately said a small apology to her parents. She was sitting in the library, the Common Room was obviously off-limits, working on a comparison assignment for Transfiguration. It should have been easy, turning teapots to tortoises had a one to one correlation with turning forks into frogs, but Hermione couldn't drag her mind off of the Luna situation.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione turned away from the unfinished homework and pulled one of the Defense texts from her bag. _Killing Time with Chimeras_ by Gilderoy Lockhart detailed a thrilling event told with a breathtaking dramatic sense and contained heretofore unplumbed depths into the nature of the Chimera. But even so, Hermione simply could not get into the story. She would get to the end of a page and realize that she hadn't read a word of it. It was maddening.

Hermione closed the book and looked at the waving, smiling man on the back. He was so...knowledgeable. _He'd_ know what to do in this situation.

"Hello? Are you Hermione Granger?" a boy's voice sounded from somewhere.

Hermione jumped. "Oh!" She quickly covered the book for some reason. "Yes. I am."

"Here." The boy held out a small envelope. "It's from Professor Flitwick." He smirked. "So what did you do? It's not often a Ravenclaw gets a detention from her own house."

"I fail to see how that is any of _your_ concern," Hermione snarled, taking the envelope. Ignoring the boy, Hermione opened the letter.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _Due to rather more grading than I was expecting, I cannot observe our detention tonight. Rather than prolong your wait, however, I was able to recruit Professor Lockhart to serve in my place. Please report to his office at 8 o'clock tonight._

 _Regards,_

 _Professor Flitwick_

Hermione's heart thumped in her chest. Serving with Professor Lockhart would certainly be...enlightening. Certainly would be an evening well-spent, even if it _was_ detention. She'd be able to pick his brain about all sorts of things that he was too busy to cover in class. Hermione could prove herself as an intelligent and worthy student for Professor Lockhart to take under his wing. That was all she wanted, really, to be recognized by Professor Lockhart and to study under him. Of course. That was it.

This was a good thing, so why was Hermione so nervous?

"You ok?" asked the boy who was still there for some reason.

"Yes, of course," Hermione answered crisply.

"You look a little pale is all," said the boy, "Do you need to go to the nurse?"

There should be some sort of law against boys talking to you after they are no longer wanted.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione said, beginning to pack up her bag, "I really must be going."

"I'm Reginald DuPont," said the boy, extending a hand as Hermione stood, "A pleasure."

Besides registering slight surprise that the boy was French, Hermione gave no indication that she'd heard him and walked out of the library. Reginald called some mean things after her, but Hermione didn't pay him any heed. She had to get ready.

* * *

Later, at dinnertime, Hermione was sitting in the Great Hall, quietly munching the shepherd's pie that magically appeared on the table. One day, Hermione was going to figure out how Hogwarts meals worked and probably solve world hunger or something, but right now she was working on something _bigger_ than that. Hermione's fork moved mechanically from plate to mouth as her mind worked feverishly on what she would be showing Lockhart later that evening in detention. Her plan was to show him the Transfiguration essay she'd been working on in the library, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was juvenile and naive and desperately needed sophistication.

Sure, linking a one to one correlation could be viewed as trivial, but the more Hermione thought about it, the more she became convinced that the spell forms for each spell were both s _trangely_ similar. Turning a teapot into a tortoise had a sort of wavy, swishy spell form that sort of traced out the tortoise from tail to snout. The two key points that directly correlated to the forkfrog spell form, an upward half-circle at the far left and a downward half-circle at the far right, intrigued Hermione. Why was it that _these_ two part of the spell form were the same? Why not the middle part? Perhaps any alliterative dishwarecold-blooded animals had the same sort of spell form?

Hermione eyed a saucer moodily.

Attempting to create a snake here at the dinner table was probably a taboo of some sort. Hermione cast her mind around for another cold-blood animal whose name started with "s." Salamander? They were less...terrifying than snakes, for certain. And didn't Gertrude the Great famously have that Fire-Eating Salamander as her familiar? Precedence.

Hermione glanced over down the table at the small groupings of her Housemates sitting and eating. No one was looking at her, as per usual. Hermione quickly pulled the saucer over to her and drew her wand. She imagined what she figured a salamander would look like and waved her wand over the saucer, making sure to include the two half-circles present in the other two spell forms. The middle was reminiscent of the tortoise spell form, but there was noticeably less curve as salamanders lacked shells.

Nothing happened.

Hermione sighed and frowned at the obstinately non-amphibian white, porcelain saucer. In a rush of motion, she grabbed the essay from her schoolbag and pushed her shepherd's pie out of the way. Hermione glared at the essay as she looked for what she forgot. At the very least, _some_ thing should have happened to the saucer, even if what happened wasn't…

Hermione smacked her hand onto her forehead.

Of _course_ casting a spell requires an _incantation_.

Shaking her head at her own idiocy, Hermione raised her wand again and cast the spell, substituting what she figured was the tortoise part with something that sounded more like a salamander. The saucer wriggled and Hermione drew in a breath of anticipation. Slowly, tortuously, the saucer elongated and shrank. Two stubbly forelegs sprouted and _tapped_ onto the wooden table mere moments before two equally stubby back legs sprouted. As though forcing itself through a particularly tight shirt, the tip of the saucer tugged one way, then the other, and became a rough approximation of a salamander's head and neck. Finally, the other end shrank and elongated even more and curled into a functional tail. Almost as an afterthought, the salamander sitting there on the table suddenly became mostly black with a few yellow spots here and there.

It looked up at Hermione and blinked.

After a moment, Hermione felt a shriek of excitement building, but she was able to pass it off as a breathy sigh. Hermione filed away alliterative dishwarecold-blooded animals for further study and just stared at the small creature curiously investigating the edge of her plate. With an amused grin, Hermione nudged a bit of shepherd's pie over to the curious amphibian. After sniffing the morsel a bit, the salamander gobbled down the potato and crust with gusto. Hermione had a brief, troubled thought about what would happen when the salamander reverted, but then the small creature gave a little yawn and Hermione beamed again.

Its hunger sated, the salamander curled up around Hermione's knife and promptly went to sleep. Hermione reached out a tentative finger and softly stroked the shiny black skin. The salamander made a strange sort of noise in its throat and wriggled closer to Hermione's finger. Hermione chuckled and kept petting her new friend.

 _Luna would love this little guy._

Hermione's expression clouded and her finger stopped. She withdrew her hand and canceled the spell. Where the amphibian had just been was now a white, porcelain saucer with half-digested shepherd's pie resting innocently in the center. Hermione stared at the saucer with a hard expression on her face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" asked a familiar voice coming to rest at her side.

"The shepherd's pie wasn't _that_ bad," commented another familiar voice settling on her other side.

"Hello Harry, Ron," Hermione said, shaking herself out of her reverie, "Sorry, I was thinking."

"Surprise surprise," muttered Ron dryly.

"What about?" Harry asked, genuinely curious as always.

"Spell forms," Hermione said, "I made a little salamander."

Harry blinked and exchanged a bemused look with Ron. "Come again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I turned this saucer into a salamander. It was easy."

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, the usual admiration in his voice, "If that wasn't completely useless, I'd ask you to teach me."

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione replied icily.

Ron shrugged and got up. "I've got to get back to the Common Room before Malfoy does something to my room. Cheerio."

"Cheerio?" Harry asked as Ron left, "Really?"

Ron shrugged without looking back.

"Don't mind him, Hermione," Harry said, patting her on the shoulder, "You know what he's like."

"A git? Oh, I know." Hermione's reply was more biting than she'd intended.

A silence followed. Hermione knew she should probably break it, but she didn't really feel like it. Her shepherd's pie sat where she had pushed it, the potatoes and meat sort of congealing as they cooled off. Hermione knew that Harry was looking at her, likely concerned, but she remained staring at the intricate wooden table. If he wanted to say something, he was welcome to. As for her, Hermione would simply-

"Can I see your salamander?" Harry asked brightly.

"Wh-what?" Hermione stammered, startled.

"The salamander you made," Harry said, "Can I see the spell?"

"Er, sure." Hermione pulled her wand out. "It's not all that interesting."

"Also, can you tell me about how you had the idea?" Harry asked, moving a little closer, to get a better look.

"Well, I was thinking about the Transfiguration assignment," Hermione explained, "And I was trying to think of another reason for the spells to be so similar. Like," she waved her wand to demonstrate, "The spell forms are extremely similar and sort of trace out the animals they make the dishware become."

Harry hefted his own wand and traced out the form, copying Hermione. "Oh, I see. So this sort of bump thing shapes the tortoise's shell?"

Hermione nodded, pleased that he was following her explanation. "Exactly. So, now we just switch in _Salamandra_ in place of _Testudo_."

Harry muttered the incantation and Hermione nodded that he was right.

Harry grinned and pulled a clean saucer over. Scrunching his face up in concentration, Harry performed the spell adequately, much to Hermione's delight. The light pink saucer stretched and elongated, thinned up and sprouted the little stubby legs, the head forced itself separate from the body, and the tail rolled up and flexed a few times. After a moment or two, the entire thing became a sort of black and red camouflage and it sprouted two little horns on its head.

Hermione frowned.

Harry beamed.

"What..." Hermione trailed off. "How did you..."

"He's adorable!" Harry exclaimed.

"The...the horns?" Hermione asked weakly.

Harry shrugged. "They looked cooler."

"When did you think of them?" Hermione asked, still reeling.

"Sort of at the end. I saw the coloring and he just sort of _needed_ a little something more," Harry said, nodding slowly.

"Huh." Hermione pulled her own saucer over and cast the spell. Soon enough, the familiar yellow-spotted black amphibian was staring up at her. It made a gurgling sort of noise and turned towards Harry's black and red salamander. The two greeted each other but soon turned away and went looking for food. Hermione pulled the shepherd's pie back and spooned them each a bit.

Harry grinned, looking at the two of them eating. "So what's bothering you, Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, startled, "Nothing!"

"You're slightly more icy than usual is all," Harry shrugged, "I figured something was up."

"I am _not_ more icy than-"

Harry turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Er, well..." Hermione sighed. He _was_ Harry Potter, after all. "I-" she thought for a second, "Have detention tonight."

"What?! You?! Why?!" Harry sputtered.

"You remember that whole bullying nonsense with Luna and Cho?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded and snapped his fingers. "The Friar mentioned that you found her, but I figured everything worked out."

Hermione shook her head. "I lost my head a bit and responded to their words with force, so there wasn't really much evidence on my side." She took a breath. "And when the prefect asked Luna, she..." Hermione trailed off.

"Supported the bullies, right?" Harry asked, shaking his head sadly, "Yeah, that's a pretty reasonable expectation."

"What?" Hermione asked, "Why?"

"She didn't want it to get worse," Harry explained, "Her fear of Cho was greater than her belief that you could protect her."

"I protected her before!" Hermione exclaimed, "I demonstrated an ability to protect her!"

Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "People are emotional. Especially when they're sad."

Hermione sighed. "I have to go. Thanks, Harry."

Harry nodded. "That's what friends are for."

Hermione shrugged. "Something like that."

Harry fidgeted for a second. "When is your detention done?"

"Erm, about nine?" Hermione guessed.

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, "Want to come to a party with me after you're done?"

"I should think not," Hermione bristled, "I still have to study and-"

"Sorry, a _Deathday_ party," said Harry, with a tone of impossible superiority.

"A what?" Hermione asked, not sure she'd heard properly.

"A Deathday party," Harry repeated, as though that helped at all. At Hermione's dubious look, Harry continued, "It's to celebrate Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday. The day he died!"

"So it's a party for ghosts?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "I overheard the Friar talking about it and he was too polite not to invite me!" He dramatically sighed and looked down at the table. "Of course, it would be ever so awkward to go by myself. Being the only living person at a party of dead people sure would be an awkward thing to experience alone."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I'll go. Of course I will." Her eyes narrowed. "But I see what you're doing, Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Trying to make one of my best friends feel better by offering her a unique experience almost perfectly tailored to being the sort of thing she'd find fascinating? Yeah, you got me."

* * *

"Right," said Ron, opening the ominous wooden desk that was next to his bed in the Slytherin dorms, "So we've spent our first month readjusting to castle life, so now it's time to start getting into _plans_."

Lurtz nodded and sat on the bed across from Ron's. "Right, sir, what's on the docket?"

Ron was fidgeting with the inside of his desk, trying to open the back of the secret compartment. He'd noticed the previous year that the desks near the beds would create as many secret compartments as the owner needed. _How_ that worked, Ron didn't know, but it turned out to be rather convenient for secret notes and things.

After a moment, Ron finally activated the right secret compartment and pulled out a small roll of parchment. He glanced back on the tricks and traps he'd pulled the previous year, grinning at some of them, then got to the bottom of the list. The only job that he hadn't crossed off as accomplished.

"Right. _McFornal_ ," Ron snarled as he crumpled the paper.

"And Abby," added Lurtz, "She betrayed you, she did."

"Of course," said Ron, nodding, "She'll get hers too."

"Then there's Malfoy," said Lurtz, ticking off on his fingers.

"Right! For what he said to Hermione," said Ron, "That'll be a good one."

Lurtz nodded. "So, what's the plan then?"

Ron pulled a fresh bit of parchment from his bag, set it on the bedside desk, and began writing. "First thing is to figure out who's loyal. Abigail obviously isn't, you obviously are, but Tracey is an unknown." Ron straightened after writing _Tracey?_ on the parchment. "So we need to ascertain her standing."

"Should I ask her all privy like?" Lurtz asked.

"No, I don't think so," Ron said after a moment, "People can say anything. I need her to prove she's with me. With actions."

Lurtz nodded. "Should I brief her to know what to look for?"

"No," said Ron quietly, "I want to see where her instincts lie." He glanced up at Lurtz, an unpleasant thought alighting itself in his mind. "Why didn't you betray me?"

Lurtz's mouth gaped. "It's not the Lurtz way, sir. You hench until they don't need henching, one way or the other, and you're loyal _till that end_ , sir."

Ron smirked. "How noble."

Lurtz shrugged. "Which henchman would you be more willing to trust, sir, one that went down with a ship or one that bailed at the first leak?"

Ron considered that. "Fair enough." After a moment, he grimaced. "I don't want to sink, Lurtz."

"You won't, sir," Lurtz said confidently, "Leastways, I don't think you've enough political capital to be worth sinking right now."

Ron sighed. "You sure know what to say, don't you?"

* * *

Hermione made her way to Professor Lockhart's office with ever-mounting anticipation. When she first started out from the Great Hall, she'd been ever so proud of her Transfiguration brainwave, but with each step, it seemed less and less impressive. It was only dishware, after all, what use would Lockhart have for Transfiguring _dishware_ of all things? And _of course_ he'd have figured out the same thing she had, probably her discovery wasn't in the book because it was so bloody obvious. Harry hadn't known about it, but of _course_ he hadn't, Harry was a muggle and thus didn't know a lot of the common sense things that wizards all knew. Just as she was sure that her idea was simply a huge waste of time and energy, Hermione found herself standing in front of Professor Lockhart's office.

She was half an hour early.

Rather than waste any of her time, however, Hermione simply knocked on the door.

A muffled, "Yes?" came from inside.

"It's, erm, Hermione, sir," Hermione managed, "And, well, I know I'm a bit early, but erm, can we start now?"

"Oh, is it _that_ time already?" came the dignified voice. After a moment, as if to himself, "Oh, it's _not_ that time."

"Please, Professor Lockhart," Hermione didn't think she had it in herself to call him by his _full_ name, "I don't mind staying till my detention actually ends."

After a moment, the door opened and _Professor Gilderoy Lockhart_ himself was grinning down at her. "Welcome, Miss Granger."

It was _impossible_ for teeth to naturally be that perfect. Ugh.

"Please, come in," said the Defense professor, beckoning her inside, "I admit I had planned on cleaning a bit _before_ you arrived."

"Oh, it's _quite_ all right, sir," Hermione said, awkwardly moving past him and into the office.

While not quite as perfect as its owner, the office was clean and well-organized. There were a few chairs facing a desk on the far side from the door, several stacks of parchment that were quite straight and proper, and a shelf above the desk that contained all of Professor Lockhart's written works (Hermione had memorized the bindings). There were various pictures on the walls, mostly Professor Lockhart shaking hands with different famous people. Hermione thought she recognized some of them, but she didn't really have a head for that sort of thing. The odd picture out was one close to Professor Lockhart's desk. The man Professor Lockhart was shaking hands with was older, balding, and rather fat; markedly different from the rest of the smiling, attractive people in the other pictures.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Lockhart, following Hermione's gaze, "You probably haven't heard of _him_. That was my favorite professor from when I was at Hogwarts, Professor Slughorn."

Hermione glanced over at Professor Lockhart. His hand was resting on his chin and an odd sort of calculating look had entered his eyes.

"What did he teach, sir?" Hermione asked, after a second.

"He taught me how to succeed," said Professor Lockhart in a soft, far away voice. After another moment of pensivity, however, Professor Lockhart shook himself. "But that's not what we're about tonight, Miss Granger." He moved around his desk and sat down, gesturing for Hermione to sit opposite him. "So, I heard you attacked some older students?"

Hermione was thrown for a second by the candor. "Er, there were extenuating circumstances, sir! They-"

Professor Lockhart held up a perfectly manicured hand to stop her. "Do not misunderstand, Miss Granger, I am not reproving you." He smirked in that sort of crooked way that Hermione had read about in books her parents didn't know she read. "I ask merely to help."

Hermione balked. "Sir?"

Lockhart grinned. "I was a Slytherin some time ago, Miss Granger, and while fame has forced me to shed that skin, I yet retain the mind of a snake." He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "I know your character, Miss Granger. Better, it would seem, than your own Head of House. I know you would never attack _any_ one, much less an older and wiser opponent, without a fantastic reason to do so."

Hermione quite suddenly had trouble breathing. She was _not_ "breathless at his praise."

"So," continued Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, spreading his hands over his desk, "I am going to teach you the basics of doing what you want."

Hermione frowned. "What?"

"The first rule of doing what you want," said Professor Lockhart, with a grin that Hermione would almost call predatory, "Is not getting caught."

* * *

Hermione left her "detention" with her mind reeling. She'd learned about all sorts of things like "plausible deniability," "leverage," and, most horrifyingly, "plots within plots." Hermione knew instinctively that, for most people, they could probably live with those concepts. Occasionally, they would pop up and the person would say something like, "Oh, right! I knew that was a thing that existed!" but Hermione was _not_ one of those people. Hermione's overactive brain was definitely not the sort that could function while knowing that the person she was talking to _could be plotting three levels deep_. Her mind would simply obsess over that and she'd never get any rest.

She'd never get anything _done_.

Hermione shook herself as she descended the staircase she was on, only just remembering to skip over the false step. If Ron wanted to do that sort of thing, to get _embroiled_ in that sort of nonsense, he was at perfect liberty to do so. Hermione, on the other hand, would simply focus on learning and knowledge and those sorts of things. The sorts of things _good_ smart people pursued.

Hermione was still convincing herself that plotting was _not_ for her when she arrived in the main foyer of the castle. Harry was waiting for her, leaning up against a column, his wand out and moving. Hermione frowned as she approached him, trying to figure out what he was casting, and failing. She made a mental note to try and learn to read lips.

"Hey, what-"

"Shh!" Harry held up his other hand, focusing intently on his wand movements. Hermione was almost proud.

After a moment, Harry grinned and finished his incantation. He pointed his wand up, towards the ceiling and thrust it upwards. A thread of magic soared out of the tip of his wand and sort of contorted itself into childish cursive letters.

 _Happy Bethday, Mick!_

Harry sighed. "I've been practicing that spell for the past hour."

"Really?" Hermione raised an impressed eyebrow. "That's a long time."

Harry shrugged. "Ah well, too bad." He grinned brightly. "How was your detention with _Professor Lockhart_?" Harry winked broadly.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm at the implication. It was _not_ a blush. "It was very enlightening, thank you very much."

After a moment, Harry said, "So, when's the wedding?"

"Harry!" Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. "For your information, he taught me how to _plot_."

Harry frowned. "You mean you actually learned something in detention?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm probably not going to _use_ any of what I learned, but still..."

Harry stared at the ground for a bit. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd have thought he was _brooding_.

"So, should we go to the party?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced up. "Oh sure." He smirked. "We don't want to be-"

"Late?" Hermione asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Get it?" Harry asked, unnecessarily, as they started walking towards the stairs leading down. "See, because they're all ghosts, and we refer to dead people as 'late'!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Geez, _some_ one is going to appreciate me someday," Harry grumbled good naturedly.

"Only if you become appreciable," Hermione rejoined, "And puns are _never_ appreciable."

"B-but!" Harry replied in mock distress, "Puns are all I'm known for! There's _literally_ nothing else I'm famous for in this community."

Hermione chuckled. Sarcastic Harry was miles better than Pun Harry.

They walked a bit more in silence and Hermione's mind began to wander to the spell Harry had been attempting to perform when she'd walked up to him. It seemed to be a pretty standard writing spell, and he'd been casting it well enough, but he seemed to be having trouble with getting it to actually spell what he wanted. In the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1, the basic message was "Hello World!" which covered two capital letters, some of the most common letters, and an exclamation point. There was a corollary found in the index that showed exactly how to substitute letters and the other punctuation marks, so Hermione wasn't entirely sure how Harry was having so much difficulty with it. Unless…

"Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing over.

"Hmm?" Harry replied.

"When you looked up the Air-Scribing Charm, did you look up the cipher in the index?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused, "I just remembered that Flitwick mentioned it as sort of a party trick last year."

Hermione blinked. "So you didn't look it up, then?"

Harry shook his head.

Hermione frowned. "How did you change the letters?"

Harry shrugged. "I just tried different stuff."

Hermione actually stopped moving.

"You tried to _brute force_ an Air-Scribing Charm?" her voice was incredulous.

Harry stopped and glanced back. "Yeah! I didn't have any other way to do it."

Hermione's mouth worked impotently, trying to give voice to her utter shock that someone would do something so _reckless_ as to try and alter a spell without research. Any _number_ of things could have gone wrong, he could have been _vaporized_ by tapping into the arcane torrent that all magic was cast from, he could have-

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry's question broke in on her wild thoughts.

"I-" Hermione tried again, "You-" After a moment, she simply sighed and pulled out the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 and opened to the index. "Here." She pointed to the corollary.

Harry blinked and he looked at the tome. "Ah. That's easier."

Hermione sighed.

After an extremely confusing journey into the bowels of Hogwarts, Harry approached the end of a hallway, standing in front of a solid wall. Hermione could hear _some_ sort of music coming from behind it, but she couldn't see the door. She looked over at Harry and he was grimacing.

"So?" she asked.

"There's no door," said Harry.

Hermione waited for him to go on, but he didn't. "And?"

"I don't know how to get into the party," Harry said, "And I'm not sure I can crumple this wall without crumpling the whole castle."

Hermione blinked at that, chose to ignore it, then said, "Is there a way around?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm barely not lost finding this place. No way am I going to look around more."

"Right," Hermione walked up to the wall and put a hand on it. It felt solid. She knocked.

There was an ethereal cry from the other side.

"Hello?" Hermione called, cupping her hand against the wall, "My friend and I are trying to get in."

"Blimey you gave me a shock," gasped the voice on the other side, "Just come on through!"

"Er," Hermione faltered.

"We're not dead!" supplied Harry, helpfully.

"Oh! Well then, you might be in a bit of a bind," said the voice, "See, we're partying _in the walls_."

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"We all communicate telepathically, and the administration wouldn't give us a room!" said a different voice, "Bloody hell, I'm on the Board, I am!"

"Oh, shove off Gustavus! You haven't been on the Board for the last two millennia!" retorted the first voice, "Did Nick invite you two youngsters? Have to be intangible to party with the ghosts!"

"It was the Friar, actually," said Harry, a little sad, "Thanks anyway-"

Suddenly, a ghostly head shot out of the wall and flew off down the hall. Hermione had about a second to watch it roll across the ground like a tumbleweed before a whoop sounded and the voice shouted "The Hunt's Coming!"

Harry dodged to the side, not quite sure what he was dodging, but Hermione lacked the reflexes borne of avoiding Bludgers. She had the _singularly unpleasant_ feeling of something like ten ghosts flooding through her midsection, chasing after the head in some bizarre version of Polo. After the main group was through her, and she could take a breath, Hermione leapt away from the wall in case there were some stragglers.

A forlorn Nearly Headless Nick sadly drifted out of the wall. "And there goes the whole thing," he muttered, his frilled collar somehow deflated.

"What?" Harry asked.

"The Headless Hunt," sighed Nick, "They always do this. They frolic and revel then leave and ruin the party left behind. I thought maybe I could join the Hunt this year, but..."

"You're not headless, though," said Hermione, "And there's no way to sever that last bit of skin, right? So you'll never join the Hunt."

Nick turned a look of horror at her. "W-what? What's that you say?"

"Nick!" Harry exclaimed, looking up from his wand, "Here!" He pointed his wand directly upwards into the air and the same cords of magic drifted up and shifted into words.

 _Harpy Dethday, Lick!_

Hermione stared at the letters. Harry _had_ the cipher. _How did he still get it wrong?_

"Er, thanks, Potter," said Nick, a little nervously, "That means...a lot."

An awkward silence ensued. Hermione had the _distinct_ feeling that this was not what she'd signed up for. Nick sort of glanced between the girl who shattered his whole afterlife plan and the boy who'd messed up _every part_ of the birthday message.

"Well, I'm going back to the party," Nick said after a time, "Ta ta!" He faded backwards through the wall.

Hermione looked over at Harry, who grinned tightly. "Can we go back now?"

Harry nodded, obviously relieved. "I wasn't going to say anything, but that was really awkward."

* * *

As they walked up the stairs towards the ground floor, Hermione was _brooding_ again. It was something she did more and more lately, though she'd been reluctant to use that word. Every time she saw Cho leading Luna around the castle, or even thought of that happening, Hermione found it difficult to focus on anything that wasn't her abject failure in regards to her friend. Then, she'd always remember that she hadn't made any attempt to contact Luna since then and Hermione would feel even worse. Then, she'd remember that she had no idea of how to even deal with Cho and the knots in Hermione's stomach would make her feel physically ill.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, tentatively, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Hermione's voice was sharper than it should have been.

"Sounds like..." Harry trailed off. "Luna?"

"How-" Hermione began.

"That was the same tone of voice you took with Ron earlier," Harry replied, "Figured it was the same thing."

"How do you _do_ that?" Hermione asked, almost in awe.

Harry shrugged. "What's up?"

"Well, you know the situation," Hermione said, her arms gesturing helplessly, "I guess I'm not sure what to do about it all."

"Do you hate her?" Harry asked, seriously.

Hermione shook her head. "It's just...I stepped out of what was normal for me, and..."

"She burned you," Harry said, nodding, "I get that."

"And I'm not like you, or Ron," Hermione said, her voice rising in pitch, "I can't just _be_ her friend; I can't _plot_ my way out of this."

Harry shrugged. "But you _can_ think your way out of this."

"What?"

"Like," Harry began, "You're literally the smartest person in the world. You can just out-think Cho, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not smart like that." She gestured helplessly. "I probably _know_ more than Cho, but I can't out-plot her."

"Ron can," Harry said.

" _I'm not Ron_ ," Hermione hissed.

"He's your friend," said Harry, "Friends help each other."

"But-"

"I needed _Snufflifors_ last year," Harry said over her, "You gave that to me." He took a breath. "You need Luna this year. We'll help you get her back."

"But I need to do this myself," Hermione said, desperately, "I lost her. _I_ messed up."

Harry shook his head, that infuriatingly genuine smile on his face. "That's the thing, you see, it doesn't matter _how_ the problem shows up. If you need help, I'll be happy to do what I can."

Hermione tried to hold onto her reasoning for why she needed to do this herself. The warmth of Harry's smile, however, was melting it pretty quickly. "But…but-"

Harry shook his head. "I'll talk to Ron tomorrow. He'll outfox Cho like nothing you've ever seen!"

Hermione was suddenly reminded of her detention with Professor Lockhart. "Well, maybe not _that_ much."

"We'll outfox her as much as is appropriate." Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione finally felt the iron knots in her stomach began to melt. "Good."

"And then Luna will-" Harry broke off and grimaced. He let go of Hermione's shoulder and clapped his hand on his ears, soon falling to the floor and curling up into a little ball and thrashing to and fro.

"Harry?!" Hermione dashed over and crouched next to him.

Harry jerked back and forth, his face pale and pained. Finally, he relaxed and rolled over onto his back. His robes were sweat-stained and his breath came in gasps.

"Harry?" Hermione brushed some of the wet hair out of his face. "Are you all right?"

Harry's eyes snapped open and it took him a second to focus on Hermione. "There's something in the walls!"

If the situation wasn't so serious, Hermione would have laughed. "What?"

"There was a voice in the walls!" Harry sat up and looked wildly around. "It's trying to kill!"

"Harry, there's nothing in the walls," Hermione said, soothingly, "Just the ghost party, and they're already dead."

Harry finally focused on Hermione. "Right." He blinked. "I hear it again." He winced. "We have to get to the foyer."

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"The victim!" Harry exclaimed, trying to get up on shaky legs. "We have to help the victim!"

"All right, Harry," said Hermione, helping him up, _completely_ out of her depth, "We'll go help the victim."

" _Hurry_!" Harry said, pulling Hermione off towards the stairs.

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Harry managed to keep in front of Hermione the whole way up the stairs and towards their destination. Hermione was breathing hard and sweating, but Harry kept on staggering on, inexorably towards the victim he was convinced needed him. His fingers began to hurt Hermione's forearm, but she didn't say anything. It didn't seem important.

Finally, they burst out onto the foyer and immediately, Hermione felt that something was _off_. Rather than flagstones and carpet, Harry and Hermione were splashing through ankle-deep water. The torches in their sconces were ominously snuffed, and the room _felt_ darker than it ever had before. Harry staggered further into the room, the water just thick enough to inhibit his trainers. As her eyes adjusted to the room, Hermione saw that two torches had been left lit. Somehow, that was even scarier than them all being dark.

Harry pulled her across the room and soon the two second years were standing in front of the wall with the two lit torches.

 _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

Hermione felt all of the blood leave her limbs and she suddenly felt extremely heavy. The writing was written in what seemed to be blood, _fresh_ by the color of it, and seemingly smeared with a hand. The torches flickered ominously, and Hermione could have sworn that occasionally the orange and yellow flames gleamed green. She felt a tug on her sleeve and glanced over at Harry. He was pointing at something a little beneath the words.

Hermione covered her mouth with a hand to hide her shriek. A cat had been stuck to the wall.

A _cat._

Someone had found a perfectly innocent cat, had apparently killed it, and then stuck it to this wall. Hermione's brain stuttered, trying to think of _anything_ to justify that.

"Potter!"

Hermione jumped at the sudden voice and turned to look at who had spoken. Professor Snape swept into the foyer, followed closely by Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

"Potter!" Professor Snape called again, "What are you doing here?"

Harry finally looked over. "Oh? Sir!" He turned to face the teachers. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely as Professor Snape ran over to the cat. Hermione watched as he pulled out his wand swept it over the feline's unmoving body, muttering what was obviously some sort of diagnostic spell. His sallow face was frowning in concentration and Hermione leaned in, trying to read the news from Professor Snape's expression.

After a bit, the Potions Professor stood and addressed the rest of them. "Mrs Norris is merely Petrified, rather than dead."

Hermione sighed in relief. They were tending Mandrakes in Herbology, after all, and they would be able to heal the cat.

"What do you know about this?" Professor Dumbledore asked Harry, kindly.

Harry recounted events, tactfully leaving out Hermione's detention, and Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly as he listened. Hermione gradually felt strength return to her legs as she took deep breaths and reassured herself that the cat would be fine and that this was probably just some silly prank.

When Harry had finished, Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard a final time and said, "I do not believe we are dealing with some silly prank."

Professor McGonagall broke in sharply, "Albus, you don't mean-"

"No, not quite, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore replied, "But I do not think we can afford to ignore this, just in case."

"It would take a particularly... _gifted_ student to perform this sort of curse," put in Professor Snape, gesturing to the cat, "But it is not infeasible that it was done by one of our own."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "I shall think on this and give the student body my thoughts tomorrow at breakfast." He looked at Harry and Hermione. "Do not tell anyone of this." He smiled benevolently. "There is no need to incite unnecessary panic."

Harry nodded. "You got it."

The teachers all looked at Hermione, then, and she realized that the Headmaster had been speaking to her as well. She jerked her head downward in a sharp nod.

"Very well then," said Professor Dumbledore, "Off to bed then?"

Harry nodded.

Professor Dumbledore turned to Professor Snape. "Severus, would you accompany Mister Potter to the Hufflepuff Common Room?" It was a testament to the previous year that Professor Snape only barely sneered in acceptance. "And Minerva…?"

"Gladly, Albus," said the matronly Transfiguration Professor, "Let's go, child."

Hermione glanced over to Harry and, feeling the same sort of feeling rising in her as she had at the end of previous year, dashed over and pulled him into a hug. She pressed all of her fear into Harry as she squeezed him, and felt it all melting away. When she pulled away, Harry was smiling at her.

"Sleep well, Hermione," he said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Y-yeah," Hermione managed, "I'll see you tomorrow."


End file.
